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Asher immediately puts the bike in gear and takes off, making my hands fly to his middle to holdmyself on.
And, ohwow. The ridges of his muscles stand out below my fingers. I can’t stop myself from sliding my hands beneath his shirt to feel them skin-to-skin. His belly shudders when I do, showing me he’s as affected by the intimate contact as I am. I stroke my hands up and down the contours of his six-pack.
My panties get wet. As Asher steers the motorcycle in the direction of National Forest land, I let my hands drop to his hips, then grip the tops of his thighs. I slide my palms up and down his thighs, dragging them up the inside until I find the bulge of his cock. His bike swerves when I stroke the length where it lies against his left thigh, making it grow and stretch. His belly shudders again.
He picks up speed, turning onto a dirt road that has clearly not been maintained. Only a four-wheel Jeep or motorcycle could drive on this road. I have to cling onto Asher’s middle again as the ride gets rough. My muscles are taut, the muscles of my neck and abdomen tense, bracing against the bumps and swerves. I peer around Asher’s shoulder to see what’s coming next.
And then there comes a point when I surrender. I stop bracing for every climb and fall of the bike over the deep grooves in the road. Stop trying to control or manage my ride. Instead, I meld my torso to Asher’s, lean my cheek against his back, and loosen my grip.
Pleasure rushes in. The thrill of the ride surrounds me. I close my eyes and take in the delicious smell of Ponderosa pine and sunbaked boulders. I drink in the scent of my mate–the warm cedar and soap. A faint whiff of fresh-baked bread. That masculine scent distinct to only him.
We ride for half an hour down the rugged road. I have no idea where he’s bringing me. What he’s planning.
Suddenly, the forest road opens into a gorgeousmeadow–a valley tucked into the mountains. Asher eases off the accelerator, gradually slowing to a stop. He leans the bike to the rest on its kickstand, twisting to catch me around the waist to ease my descent. I dismount and drink in the beauty of our surroundings, turning in a full 360.
Only then do I turn my gaze on Asher to try to discern what we’re doing here.
“Run, Lotta,” he says softly.
I blink, not understanding. His words didn’t match his tone, so it takes a moment to assimilate the meaning. “What?”
His lips twitch. “You heard me, sweetheart.Run.”
Asher
Lotta kicks off her flip flops at the same time she whips her cute-as-fuck crop top off.
I slowly unbuckle my belt, my gaze glued to her tight little body.
Her exhilaration shows in the spark in her bright blue eyes, the speed at which she undresses. She heard the taunt in my voice, but she knows this is a game.
She drops her skirt and panties then unhooks her bra. Her nipples are taut, extended out in firm points. But I don’t get to ogle them because in a flash, she drops to all fours, a blur of white fur as she takes off away from me.
I give her a head start. My wolf is bigger.
Much faster.
Plus, I relish the hunt. Crave the chase.
If it was too easy to catch her, the payoff wouldn’t be as delicious. I take my time undressing, now deliberately not following her movements. I pick up her clothes and mineand drape them over the seat of my bike, then take out the cushy comforter I stuffed into one saddle bag and spread it out on a choice spot in the meadow. From the other saddlebag, I retrieve the bag I packed with picnic food–meat, cheese, fruit, nuts, and wine. It’s not that hard to convince the grocery clerk to sell you wine when you’re both shifters. He knows I metabolize way too fast to ever be impaired by a bottle of wine.
The sun is setting, bathing the mountainsides in oranges and gold. I shift, trotting off in the direction she disappeared, my nose to the ground to follow her delectable scent. I catch it easily and pick up speed, the joy of running as my wolf mingling with the insatiable need to hunt, catch, and devour Carlotta James.
I run harder, instinct taking over, but then lose her scent.
My tricky mate.
She doubled back somewhere. I skid to a stop, pivot, and follow the trail back. It takes me a few minutes to figure out that she took a flying leap from one of the boulders to the earth below, but I pick up the scent again and charge forward.
I race forward, my paws digging into the soft earth as I climb in elevation. I catch sight of a flash of white fur in the trees and veer on the diagonal to cut her off. I don’t mean to catch her, but I leap and end up pinning her beneath two paws.
She rolls over, baring her belly and throat to me. Submitting to me, her mate. Making me desperate to shift back and fuck her blind.
But I want her to enjoy the blanket I set up, so I release her, giving her a light nip to drive her back down the mountain. I chase, nip, and herd her down to the meadow,enjoying the way she slows to take in our picnic site then races for it.
My wolf goes insane with need for her.
We reach the blanket in seconds, both of us shifting to human form before we’re down.
